


Lost In The Maze

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bubblebaths, Collars, Consensual Non-Consent, D/s, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gags, Good Dom Behavior, Leashes, Literally Draco Malfoy In Leather Pants, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Safewords, Scar Worship, Sensory Deprivation, Shibari, Voyeurism, black leather gloves, erotic wizard photography, no plot at all just smut, wizard vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: By popular request...the continuing D/s adventures of Mr. M and his Kitten.On a long holiday weekend, Draco decides to fulfill one of Hermione's long held fantasies - to be chased and caught.Contains actions and dialogue common to a consensual non-consent scene.





	1. Happy Phoenix Day

**Author's Note:**

> My goodness. Since writing Exposed and Kisses Dripping With Honey I've had several people ask when I would be writing more Committed Kink Dramione. Here you go! As always, if you have tropes/kinks/headcanons for this couple, please let me know. :)

She woke up early and shuffled to the bathroom, not surprised to find the black leather collar on the counter beside the sink. It was unbuckled, waiting…teasing her with promise and she wasted no time in putting it on. It was Friday, Phoenix Day, a national wizarding holiday ever since the end of the war, and Draco and Hermione had a long weekend ahead of them. Lately, most of their time was spent in their flat on Richmond Hill, but Narcissa and Lucius had gone on a holiday to Spain for a change of pace they had the whole Manor to themselves. After freshening up she emerged from the bathroom, still in her black satin nightgown, pulling her hair back into a loose knot.

“Well sir, I hope you made tea for…”

Even as she spoke she saw the silver tray on her vanity table with her favorite breakfast: black tea and a chocolate croissant. Still, Draco was nowhere to be found; which was odd for a man who rarely deigned to get out of bed before nine. A small envelope sat on the tray beside the sugar bowl, addressed to _Kitten_.

 

> _Enjoy your breakfast pretty witch, and don’t bother getting dressed._
> 
> _I know how you enjoy your morning reading, so I’ll give you some time to relax. Meet me at the entrance to the maze at 10:00._
> 
> _Do NOT be late._
> 
> _The Hunt has begun…_
> 
> _Mr. M._

 

The signature gave her a shiver, familiar in its combination of fear and arousal. They’d discussed this fantasy at length, mostly as a way of warming each other up for a few hours of particularly vigorous playtime, but she’d almost forgotten about it as real life took over and work overwhelmed both of them, sometimes keeping them apart for days at a time between the Ministry and the Potions Lab. However Draco, she’d come to learn, had a memory like a steel trap.

It was Spring, a sunny morning with a cool breeze. The elves had opened a few windows and there were fresh flowers on all of the tables in the front hall.

“Draco?” She called for him as she padded down the stone staircase, although she was sure he wouldn’t answer. Besides, it was 9:53 and she knew better than to keep him waiting.

 

The grass in the front gardens was still cold with dew, but as she stood near the entrance to the maze she could feel the electric, tingling edges of his warming charm. Two towering statues of Herbridean Black Dragons guarded the maze, their wings spread to prevent her from entering. When she touched a wing to move it aside, both creatures snorted angrily through their noses, one turning its head to glare at her with its black glass eyes.

“I’m supposed to meet the _other_ dragon here!” she snapped. She had little patience for the attitudes of the various Manor artworks.

The statue turned its head and nodded in the direction of a small black box set on a stone bench.

“Thank you,” she said.

Inside the box was a bed of black velvet, another, smaller box and another envelope.

 

> _Kitten,_
> 
> _I hope you weren’t late. You only get a ten minute head start and my mouth is already watering for you, witch. I’ve transfigured the maze into a new configuration. Once inside you can try to hide from me, but I’m going to find you. If you get to the center before I snatch you up, you get to come: a fine incentive for your performance._
> 
> _Tell the dragons “I’m ready to be hunted”._
> 
> _Don’t forget to put on your blindfold._
> 
> _Good luck, pet._
> 
> _Mr. M_
> 
> _P.S. the little box is for you – Happy Phoenix Day_

Hidden deep in the velvet was a black silk blindfold that she picked up and ran through her fingers. The tiny jewelry box held an ancient looking burnished gold cuff bracelet set with diamonds and peridot. The gems sparkled in the sunlight and she clicked it around her wrist, smiling at the cool metal against her flesh. Honestly, it was one of her favorite feelings.

Already her heart was pounding against her ribs imagining Draco chasing her through the hedges while she stumbled barefoot over the dirty walkways, half naked and blind. This was her fantasy – to be his prey. They’d read stories together – dark, erotic tales of Werewolves, Vampires and Veelas capturing their mates, giant wings and fangs and claws unfurled, easily overpowering them, fucking them roughly, mercilessly…like an animal.

 

_“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” She asked him once as they snuggled together in bed after a long day of play._

_“Oh my darling Granger, where do I begin?” He asked with a sigh._

_“I’m serious, Draco. These things that turn me on…they’re dark, dangerous…they’re painful things. Wrong things.”_

_His smile faded a bit, eyes serious as he massaged the sore spots on her shoulders, the tight muscles from having her arms stretched and bound above her head._

_“No love, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re an adult with an active imagination. You know the difference between fantasy and reality. I’m entirely yours Hermione, and you know I would never hurt you and that I’d kill anyone who tried. You trust me.”_

_"I do. I know,” she said, hesitating. “It’s just that…”_

_He held up a hand to stop her, kissing the inside of her wrist._

_“I was sure that you were smart enough to know this, love,” he said with a playful sneer that was met with a sharp pinch below his ribs. “Hermione, you are the strongest, most composed and in control woman I know. Everyone you work with, everyone you interact with looks to you for the answers, the plan; its up to you to find the course of action. But you also want to be wanted. You want to be desired, but you’ve been taught that those are shallow things…surface things that aren’t important. But they are. To you.”_

_He pulled her down to lay on his chest and ran his hands through her hair, massaging the back of her neck where the collar had rubbed against the bone of her spine. His words were soft and reassuring, his voice like buttery caramel in her ears as she felt her muscles soften in his arms, the tension unwinding itself._

_"These fantasies are the one time you allow yourself to give up all control, to stop thinking, to stop deciding and organizing and planning for the future. All you can do is feel and obey…and be wanted.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “And it feels gooood.”_

 

Walking towards the entrance of the maze, Hermione looked over her shoulder, wondering where her predator could be. Was he already inside? Was he back at the house? Was he hiding behind the hedges?

The Dragons sealed off the entrance with their wings, both staring down at her from their stone pedestals. Beneath their claws was the familiar engraving MALFOY MANOR EST. 1081. As she watched, the letters on each pedestal transfigured to read: SAFEWORD?

“Enough,” she said with a clear, loud voice.

The words transfigured once again to read PASSWORD?

She took a deep breath and wiggled her bare feet in the bark chips covering the walkway before slipping the blindfold over her eyes. Then, stepping forward she reached out and touched the stone wings guarding entrance and whispered,

“I’m ready to be hunted”

Before walking inside.


	2. Poor Little Kitten

He was watching her from the other end of the maze, lingering at the exit on the north side which he would charm closed once the hunt started. Lucius had long ago developed a spell for the statuary around the manor, allowing any Malfoy to see through their eyes. It was a sort of security system, originally a way to keep an eye on young Draco zipping through the grounds on a broom, but now served slightly more nefarious purposes.

Inside, the maze had been made far more complex, the hedgerows more narrow and the stakes far higher than the average afternoon of backyard fun. Earlier in the morning, while his Kitten was sipping her tea and reading a book on Early Seventeeth Century Centaur Politics, he’d transfigured the center of the maze into an outdoor playroom with overarching vines and a downy soft bed with four sturdy posts. A chest of tools and implements, a full-length mirror and some champagne and chocolate completed the scene. As soon as she looked into the jet black eyes of the dragon and said “I’m ready to be hunted”, Draco took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing both of them into this dark and dangerous world.

Although it was a bright, beautiful spring day, he’d charmed vines to grow over the top of the eight-foot hedges making the corridors dark, cramped. Always one to get into character, he’d dressed for the occasion, stalking through the maze in his black dragonhide riding pants with knee high black boots that crunched over the rough ground, loud enough for his prey to hear him coming. He wore a black shirt and black gloves because she loved the taste of leather when he covered her mouth, and for when the hunt was finished, he coiled a thin, black leather leash around his left hand.

Knowing exactly where she was, Draco ambled slowly through the first few turns of the transfigured maze, just to give her a fighting chance. After five minutes he moved with more purpose, whistling and laughing and calling for her through the thickly cultivated hornbeams.

“I can smell you little witch,” he called out. “You dare to try and run from me?” He beat the hedges with the end of the leash as if flushing birds from the shrubbery. “When I find you, your ass is mine, sweetheart. I’ll tie you down so tight you’ll barely breathe. You’ll never escape me again.”

 

 

_“I want you to chase me,” she’d said, flipping onto her side, tracing her fingers over the lines of his chest and planes of his stomach._

_“I had the impression I’d caught you, love,” he said, grinning. “Or are you sleeping with everyone at Ministry Archives as well?”_

_“Like in the stories. Like Felicia and The Werewolf Prince.”_

_He was surprised at how quickly her pupils dilated, how her cheeks flushed just talking about the prospect. Her hand wandered down between his legs, stroking him as she moved closer, throwing a leg over his thigh, grinding on his hip._

_“Oh?” He asked, feeling her wetness already slicking over his skin. “You want to be hunted like prey?”_

_“Yesss,” she said, as if the very thought of it turned her on. “I want to feel the unknown terror of being chased, being pursued like an animal…and I don’t want you to make it easy. It has to be a fight…raw. I want to be punished. A captive who tried to run.”_

_Hearing the desperate need in her voice was enough to make him hard, and she was stroking him with more intensity, both of her legs hooked around him, her pussy bucking against his hip._

_"Look at you,” he breathed, palming her breast, pulling her against his side. “You’re going to make yourself come just thinking about me hunting you down, pushing you to your knees.”_

_She nodded, her hand falling away from his cock as her eyes fluttered._

_“My frightened little kitten, lost in the dark, hiding from her angry Mr. M,” he purred as she humped against him harder, his thigh wet with her juices. “Go on, you filthy kitten, get yourself off. I can tell you need it.”_

_“Please,” she said, reaching for him again, running her thumb over the weeping head of his prick. “Please let me have it.”_

_He slapped her hand away, holding it by the wrist, bending her arm up behind her back._

_“No,” he said. “I was perfectly happy to go to sleep, nice and clean. You started this, darling. You finish it on your own.”_

_She pouted and he kissed her mouth, his tongue slipping deep and slow over hers as her hips started to rock into him again, her thighs clamping tight around his._

_"Keep talking,” she said. “Tell me what will happen.”_

_“Oh Kitten,” he said, wrapping a hand around her waist to help her rut into his hip. “If I told you what was going to happen, it would ruin the surprise.”_

She reached her arms out on either side, surprised to find the walkways much narrower than usual, her fingers sinking into the dense hedgerows. For a moment or two she was alone, or at least believed she was alone. She heard no footsteps, no breathing. Then, in the distance she heard the telltale crack of apparition. The sound made her swear audibly, having forgotten to bring her wand. He hadn’t told her she couldn’t…she’d just assumed.

“Where’s my pretty kitty?” He called out and she could hear the thick swish and whack of something hitting the bushes. A flogger? A leash? A whip?

The sound was to her left so she continued forward, errant branches scratching her arms and thighs, bark and stones digging into her feet. Her mouth was dry with anticipation, her heart racing. The maze forced her to turn left and she let out a cry of disappointment, instantly clapping her hands over her mouth. But it was too late. She heard the crack again and again. He was coming closer, close enough that she could hear his footsteps.

“I can smell you,” he sang out, his voice nothing but pure amusement. If she was correct, he was just on the other side of the hedge. “I can hear you breathing. Silly girl, trying to get away from me. You have to have some sort of _plan_ if you’re going to escape. Put some _thought_ into it. You’re going to wish you hadn’t run when I find you.”

She ran at full speed, her hands in front of her until she hit a dead end. It offered her only one out…a left turn. The walkways were narrower the closer she got to the center and now she could almost feel the shrubs scratching her shoulders on each side. Another crack, then another. But she heard no footsteps. He was waiting for her to move.

“I can’t wait to hear you begging. Can’t wait to see those big shiny tears.”

Hermione took a deep breath and took her left turn…and ran into a warm, broad chest.

“Hello, Kitten,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, the condescending tone, the arrogance. And that’s when she decided to put up a real fight. “That took no time at all, darling.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in, clicking the latch of the leash open and closed, open and closed.

“That’s because the fight wasn’t fair,” she breathed.

He laughed, but she didn’t. Instead she elbowed him in the stomach and ripped off her blindfold, pushing past him and running off into the maze.

 

 

Draco had known that she’d break the rules at some point. He’d pushed enough buttons that he could almost feel her snap once he’d pulled her in. What he hadn’t expected was the elbow to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him, giving her a few precious seconds to run. The untamed competitive beast within him roared to life. He coiled the leather leash around his gloved hand, turned on his heel and ran.

“Now you’ve done it, witch,” he growled. “Running away? Breaking the rules? _Hitting me?”_

He pulled his wand out and began reconfiguring the maze again as he stalked through the walkways, throwing up walls to slow her down, closing off every route except the one to the center where her punishment waited.

“We were going to have some fun _together_ , Kitten. But now I think it’ll just be me.”

Turning a corner he heard her. She was breathing heavily, not moving, just on the other side of the hedge. Silently, he pulled his wand and opened a hole in the wall between them, just big enough to see where she was. Just as suspected, her back was to him, and she was bent forward, catching her breath, her hands on her knees. Poor little kitten, getting so tired. He opened the hedge further, a big enough opening for him to crouch and step through, careful not to make any noise. They were only a few meters from the charmed playroom at the center of the maze and he was anxious to bring her to it, to let her see what he had planned.

He stood behind her, watching her breathe, brushing a few bits of bark and dirt from the bottoms of her feet.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” He asked softly.

Hermione stood and turned, her eyes wide, cheeks pink. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and ducked her head, making a move to dive past him but it was too late. Draco sunk his hand into her hair and pulled her back, yanking her so roughly that she fell to her knees in front of him, crying out in agony as her bared knees dug into the sharp maze floor.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry. Please Dr…Mr. Malfoy, please.”

She looked up at him with shining eyes and grabbed one of his hands with two of hers, kissing the black glove, pressing her cheek to his palm in supplication, but he wasn’t satisfied. He left her on her knees, holding her jaw tightly in his hand, his other still tight in her hair.

“I don’t believe you, witch,” he hissed. “I think you need to prove how very sorry you are. I think you need to do a bit of penance.” She nodded slowly and he let go of her. “Get up. Get up and strip.”

She did as he asked and he walked around her, inspecting her from head to foot. When he was satisfied he uncoiled the leash and held the latch out to her.

“Go on, Kitten. Put it on. You tried to run and you lost. Now you’ll spend the rest of the day on my leash,” he said. Then, leaning down close, he flicked the tip of his tongue over the shell of her ear and whispered. “And then once I’m satisfied with your remorse…I’ll fuck you like a dog.”

He bit down on her earlobe and she yelped in surprise, yet his words had still caused a pulse of arousal between her legs and she knew she was already wet for him.

“Oh, one more thing,” he said. “Spread your legs.”

 

She complied immediately and he dragged two gloved fingers through her pussy, not surprised at all to find her warm and slick, already open for him. He pinched her clit hard and she cried out, stumbling into his chest and he quickly righted her, pulling his hand away.

“Don’t come crying to me, Kitten. I’m angry with you…you won’t find any comfort here.”

She believed it. She’d told Draco before that were he not a millionaire potions developer, he should have been an actor. His ability to change right in front of her, to go from one character to another in the blink of an eye was almost frightening. He could be berating and torturing her for hours but if he sensed her distress even for a second he would stop and pull her into his arms, kissing the crown of her head, rubbing circles into her back to soothe her, assuring her that everything was fine.

And right now everything was more than fine. She stood in front of him with her leash hanging between her breasts and he produced what looked like a black rubber goose egg. Without a word of warning he pushed the egg inside her. It stretched and filled her and instantly she had the urge to cross her legs and squeeze, to hump against something, grind on his leg. He saw her discomfort and laughed.

“Horny little witch wants some relief,” he said. Then added, “Altum Vibrationis.”

The egg buzzed and thrummed inside her and she moaned, pulling her legs together. Again he laughed cruelly before ending the spell and picked Hermione up, slinging her over his shoulder and giving her a firm slap on her naked ass.

“Don’t try it. We’re not here for your pleasure today, kitten,” he said, turning a corner to reveal the outdoor bedroom he’d created at the center of the maze. “We’re here for your punishment.”

 

 

Grape and Tentatcula vines were woven over the top of the maze, closing them into a spacious room. She could only see a bit of it over his shoulder but there was a wide bed with sumptuous linens as well as iron eyebolts in each corner. Two more stone dragons stood sentinel in the corners and she recognized them as part of the fountain that usually sat at the center of the maze. A black lacquer chest sat ominously at the foot of the bed and she found herself both intrigued and terrified to discover what was inside.

Without warning Draco turned on the vibrator again and her knees buckled. She moaned, her thighs damp with her own arousal and pressed her legs together. He chuckled.

“Stand still!” He snapped, smacking her ass with an open palm. “Open your legs, witch. You’re not going to come until I decide you’ve earned it.”

“Y-yes sir,” she said.

“What was that?” He hissed, leaning in close, his eyes fiery. She drank in the scent of his soap, his aftershave, the hair pomade he used that smelled like the ocean.

“Yes…Mr. Malfoy. I’m sorry.”

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Finally you’ve done one thing right.”

He grabbed her wrist and yanked forward, pressing her hand to his cock, already thick and hard beneath his riding pants. She squeezed, her jaw slack as she imagined it inside her, the way it stretched and slid…

The vibrator triggered again and she whined with desperation.

“My best little cock slut, just touching it makes your pussy drip,” he said, reaching between her legs again and rubbing her clit. She shook, biting her lip, but wouldn’t give in, focusing on the angry glare in his eyes. “Don’t you dare, pet.”

“No, I won't. I’m sorry Mr Malfoy.”

“Time to show me,” he said, stepping back and unfastening the front laces of his trousers. “Kneel and open your mouth.”

She did as he asked and he let go of her leash, admiring for a moment how it hung between her breasts, stark black leather against her creamy skin. Already hard, he pulled his cock free, stroking it slowly while she waited at his feet, her lips parted.

“I should choke you with it,” he said, roughly grabbing a fistful of her hair, rubbing the warm head of it over her lips, brushing it over her tongue. She tried to close her mouth around him but he pulled back. “I should fuck your mouth until you can’t breathe and come down your throat for running away from me.”

He triggered the vibrating egg once again and she twitched in his grip, whimpering and twisting, her hips bucking against nothing as he kept her thighs parted with his leg wedged between them.

“Don’t get your cream on me, precious,” he said, still teasing her open mouth, still holding tight to her hair, the device still torturing her. “These trousers are fucking bespoke leather.”

Of course part of him wanted to let her grind on him, to watch her dissolve in orgasm, her cheeks flushed pink, moaning his name. There was always some point in the game when he wanted to call it off, to just pull her into his arms and sink into her; stop everything to tell her how gorgeous she was when her eyes sparkled with tears, how her submission made her look ravishing, strong, confident even. He always made a point to tell her after, when they lay together in bed or she soaked in the bath…but she tended to laugh it off, unable to believe still, after this long, that anyone could find her as perfect as he did. But this was how she felt beautiful. This was how she felt wanted and desired, and so he would do everything in his power to give it to her.

Besides, her blowjobs were exquisite.

“Please Mr. Malfoy,” she begged, as he dragged his prick across her cheek and over her lips. “Please let me come. Let me suck you. Anything, please. I’m sorry.”

“Oh you’ll suck, kitten. Don’t worry about that. We don’t have to be at work until Monday, there’s plenty of time.”

He nearly laughed at how her eyes briefly flashed with terror, wide and unbelieving. Draco had no intention of keeping this act up all weekend…they had brunch reservations with the Notts on Sunday…but she didn’t have to know that yet. She writhed and whined and he remembered that the vibrator was still pulsing inside her. He stopped it and reached down to position her jaw, holding her mouth open. When he ran his gloved thumb over her lips she ran her tongue over it and kissed the leather.

“Look at you…trying to get on my good side.”

He crouched then, still holding her jaw tight as he kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned as their mouths met, his strong hands holding her still as he all but fucked her mouth with his tongue. She could tell that he was faltering. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, he wanted to fuck her silly, to see her come because of him. It brought him such pride. And yet just as quickly he pulled away with a wicked smile and whispered against her lips,

“But it’s not going to work.”

He stood again and gripped his aching erection, squeezing her jaw to open her mouth. With his other hand he held tight to the back of her neck and pushed past her lips. Her response was instant, laving and sucking, her lips wrapped tightly around his velvety hot shaft as he thrust in hard over her tongue. With every snap of his hips he growled and grunted and she reached up to hold him herself, to stroke the base of his cock while she sucked at the end.

“Oh good girl…what a good, cock sucking girl,” he breathed, his hand massaging the back of her neck in a rare show of gentleness. “You won’t run from me again. You’re mine. My sweet little pet. Oh fuck kitten…fuck…”

He triggered the vibrating egg again and her breath caught in her lungs. He’d pushed her to the edge too many times…too close. She could immediately feel herself clenching and twitching around it, her blood thrumming with an approaching climax.

“Don’t you dare come, girl. Don’t you…” he stuttered as she worked harder, faster…until she felt him stiffen, pushing as far as he could until he was nestled tightly in the back of her throat. His hand moved to her throat, holding it as he came, his thrusts quick and jerky. “Let me feel you swallow it. All of it.”

She closed her legs together, squeezing against the humming egg as his heat slid down her throat. Tears came to her eyes as she struggled to maintain composure, moaning, whining. Draco pulled himself free and watched her fall apart, knowing she couldn’t hold it back.

“Oh god Mr…oh my…” she fell forward, curled over herself as the orgasm crashed through her, almost painful in its intensity. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…fuck…oh god…”

She was surprised to feel him rubbing her naked back, cooing and soothing her as the spasms wracked her body. Finally she went limp, breathless, curled on the stony floor of the maze at his feet. He lifted her chin with the toe of his boot. His grin was wicked, lopsided, she’d seen it before.

“Tsk tsk…poor girl. I told you not to,” he said, the thick sole of his boot digging into the underside of her chin. “I warned you and now you’ve made a mess.”

She went on her knees in front of him, kissing his boots, going up on her knees to grab for his hands, to kiss his palms. If she could see his signet ring, she would kiss it as well. It was the highest form of supplication she could show him.

“Please Mr. Malfoy. Please. I just couldn’t, I’m so sorry. Please I’ll make it up to you. ”

Wordlessly he reached between her legs to find her still sensitive and dripping wet and she cried out at his touch. Stuffing two fingers inside her he freed the egg, dragging it over her clit as he pulled it free. She shuddered at the loss, the emptiness, of having it removed but said nothing, her hands folded behind her back. With a few whispered words he transfigured the egg so that it had two leather straps.

“Oh I know you will. Open your mouth, you messy witch. We need you to clean up.”

She did as he asked and he popped the egg in her mouth, setting it on her tongue so she could taste the earthy, ocean flavor of her own arousal before fastening the straps behind her head. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, moving towards the wide, luxurious bed. Positioning her on her knees in the center of the bed he produced three coils of thin black rope. Of course as a wizard all he would have to do is whisper an incarcerous and she would be bound and immobile, but she knew that tying his knots and weaving his harnesses was one of his favorite parts. He’d told her from the beginning that seeing her in elaborate rope work made his mouth water…that he loved seeing the contrast of her skin against the ropes, the way her muscles and tendons strained beneath the tight knots and coils. He worked slowly, meticulously, sliding the soft rope around her waist, between her legs, over her hips, whispering to her how he was going to take her once she was trapped in his web.

“My poor poor kitty won’t be able deny me a thing,” he said, pulling her arms behind her back and weaving the rope around and around until she was held taut from wrist to elbow. “You’ll be on your back, your soaking pussy will be spread wide open.” He dragged the knotted end of the rope over her clit and she jumped, making him laugh. “You’ll want so badly to touch me when I sink my dick inside you. I know how you like to dig into my back while I fuck you, darling, how you like to wrap your legs around mine.”

 

She looked at him helplessly, her mouth stretched around the gag, tasting herself with every movement, every involuntary swallow. He momentarily let his mouth hover near hers but denied her the kiss that she leaned in for, brushing his lips over her forehead instead. Already she could feel herself getting wet again, warm, a throbbing pulse of arousal between her legs. In the tangle of vines above the bed she heard a rustling and squawk before a rolled parchment fell through onto the bed.

“What’s this?” Draco said, raising an eyebrow. He pushed her onto her back and opened the message. “Ah…it’s Marcus. Haven’t seen him in an age! Getting together with the boys for a bit of cards and a couple of pints.”

He rolled the message up and tucked it into his pocket before returning his attentions to his bound and naked witch. Her brow was furrowed with complete confusion and maybe a bit of anger. Draco had to bite his cheek to stop from laughing. He sighed and sat down beside her, pushing her legs further apart, stroking her slowly with two fingers, spreading her open, her knees pressed to the mattress. With what little movement she had, Hermione’s back arched and she moaned around the gag in her mouth.

“I’m so disappointed that you tried to run from me, Kitten,” he said, shaking his head, frowning. “And I told you not to come and you did anyway. It’s like you refuse to learn your lesson, darling.”

She shook her head frantically, eyes wide.

“Perhaps you just need some time to think it over,” he said, stroking her hair.

She started thrashing in her bonds and he watched her carefully. When she was gagged she couldn’t use her safeword but she could blink, left eye then right; but he saw nothing. She shook her head wildly as he stood up from the bed, tying her leash to an eyebolt in the headboard.

“See? Look at you all worked up. You should have thought of that before you ran from me kitten. But you do look beautiful.”

He tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear and adjusted a few of the ropes before buttoning up his shirt and trousers and running a hand through his hair.

“I’m going to go grab lunch with the boys in town,” he said, holding her jaw and watching her face. He never once had taken the gloves off, knowing they were her favorite. “You enjoy the afternoon sunshine and think about what you’ve done. We’ll see if you’ve earned a reward when I get back.”

He stood and headed for the outer walkways of the maze while she whined and thrashed, pulling against the impossibly tight ropes, expertly tied so maintain circulation, to keep her from getting too sore. Even with the gag in her mouth he could hear her trying to call his name but he only shook his head and blew her a kiss.

 

He hoped she hadn’t seen that the parchment the owl had dropped for him was blank.

 


	3. Fallen Goddess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early in this chapter is a reference to one of my other Kitten and Mr. M stories: Kisses Dripping With Honey...but it's not essential to have read it. :)

Of course he had no intention of leaving her alone for long, but given how she’d tricked him a few weeks prior when he’d been her slave for the day, leaving him alone with a raging hard on for the better part of an hour, he figured that turnabout was fair play. One thing he _would_ do was take this moment to head back to the house for a few supplies and maybe a drink…possibly go through the mail, make lunch...

The two smaller Dragon statues within the maze were dutifully focused on his lovely Hermione and he could check in at anytime before he got back. The day was warm enough, the sun dappled on her skin and the entrances to the maze were warded so there was no worry of wayward elves or surprise visitors showing up and exposing her. So once he was back inside he poured himself a cup of tea and sat down in front of the enchanted mirror in the front parlor to watch. It wouldn’t be long before she was writhing and whining, straining against the knotted harness he’d wrapped her in and he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

 

For her part, Hermione watched him leave her in the maze in silent disbelief, her eyes wide as she quickly vowed a drawn out and painful revenge. Of course she could have stopped him. She could have used her safeword to make him stay with her but part of her couldn’t truly believe he was going to leave her alone, naked, outside in the maze… _TO GO TO LUNCH WITH BLOODY MARCUS FLINT_. There _had_ been a smile on his face and he dared to whistle a little tune as he walked away making her wonder what else he could have up his sleeve.

The answer came much quicker than she expected.

It was in the rope. As usual, he’d used the satiny soft black rope, only an inch or so thick, but he’d used quite a bit to create an elaborate harness that wrapped around each thigh, criss crossing over her waist and between her breasts. He’d wound the rope snugly around both of her arms, pulling them taut behind her back, placing soft kisses on her shoulders as he tied her wrists. When he was finished he kissed the crown of her head.

“My little runaway isn’t going anywhere,” he’d whispered, almost to himself.

His attention to detail, to her, the focus he put on arranging her limbs and pulling her hair back into a smooth, tight ponytail…it had all added to her arousal. And it wasn’t only because she was in bondage, although the idea of being so desired, so precious that he would tie her down to possess her was certainly something that made the back of her neck warm and prickly. With the rope harnesses there was something about knowing she was the center of his universe, if only for the few minutes it took him to create his woven masterpiece, that made her shiver whenever she thought of it. It was all an art to him, and she was his canvas.

After she was secured he’d tied three thick knots with the remaining tail of rope and threaded it between her legs and up around her waist again. With every movement the knots slipped and rubbed against her pussy, one pressing directly against her clit. They quickly became slick with her own juices, but there was something more to the rope. It was a sensation oil that he’d developed in his lab and had been taunting her with it for weeks. Odorless, colorless, and even when it soaked into the rope and dried it still worked when warmed by her skin. He must have coated the harness before tying her up and now she could feel a low, constant tingle between her legs. As it warmed and intensified she began to roll her hips, a frustrated whine muffled by her gag. The harness made it impossible to close her legs around the knots to find friction but even expanding her lungs to breathe slipped them over her clit and she could feel her wetness slicking her thighs. Like an animal she began grunting and whimpering, needing relief, friction, pressure…something. The second knot was thick enough and big enough to fit itself between her lips and up inside her, something to grind on if she had the ability. Finally, unable to take it any longer, she rolled onto her stomach and bucked her hips against the pillows, her shoulders burning from the strain of her arms pulled behind her back. But even through that discomfort…it felt good.

 

Draco stood outside the maze with a broad smile on his face, watching her struggle through the black glass eyes of the dragon statue. Poor little kitten. She’d made the mistake of telling him that she wanted to suffer. It was a gorgeous sight, watching her twist and roll, her body straining against the ropes that he’d enchanted to drive her mad. He watched, enraptured as she humped against the thick white pillows, could even hear her groans of frustration and pleasure as the sensations increased, the knots working against her.

“Go on,” he muttered under his breath, wanting nothing more than to apparate to her, to assist her with her efforts, but she’d only been alone half an hour. Surely he had more self control than that.

Instead of rushing to her rescue he watched intently until she started panting behind the gag, her back bowing as she snapped her hips against the pillows. She stiffened and groaned and he watched her come, his own cock straining against his tight trousers, begging for release.

After her orgasm, Hermione artlessly rolled onto her back and let her legs fall open, limp and sore on the downy soft mattress, knocking two of the pillows off of the bed. The afternoon sun filtered down through the vines as she caught her breath, sweat dripping from her forehead and rolling down into her hair. Just when she was afraid she was going to fall asleep, she could hear boots crunching over the walkway stones, then the telltale whistling of her captor. Even without seeing him she could tell had to have that smug, lopsided grin on his face, the one that came with an arched eyebrow. It was just the sort of smile that made women melt for him and men declare him an asshole. She was desperate to see it.

“My goodness what a mess you’ve made,” he said, strolling into the center of the maze. “I don’t think you were thinking about your behavior while I was away, were you.”

Still she stared up at the vines, her arms pinned beneath her back. A shining black swift landed on the vines, calling out for a few moments before taking flight again. She felt his glove covered fingers on the side of her ankle, tracing up to the muscle of her calf.

“I can smell your pussy. Is it wet?”

Her body was tired, sore, she was in a post orgasmic haze, her endorphins crashing, and for a moment she didn’t answer. It was a mistake. In an instant he was crouching over her, her body pinned to the mattress as he held her jaw tight in his hand.

“I’m not asking these questions for my health, kitten. Is your pussy wet?”

She nodded. He pulled her up to kneeling, sitting back on her heels, then took the hair band from her ponytail, combed his fingers through her thick locks and pulled them back again, a bit neater, a bit looser. She implored him with her eyes to take the gag out, and he must have understood because he unfastened the straps and pulled the egg from her mouth letting shining strings of drool drip from her shining, swollen lips and down her over her chin.

“Filthy girl,” he muttered, wiping her face with his glove. “I leave you alone for an hour and you make a mess of yourself, the bed, your hair…” and yet as he admonished her he carefully massaged the hinge of her jaw and caressed her cheeks, making sure she was ok.

With a slap on her hip he helped her to roll over onto her stomach and pushed her knees up beneath her, exposing her completely, her thighs spread impossibly wide. Once she was in position he knelt behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her pussy and then the thick warm leather of his fingers, pushing the knots out of the way, tickling at her over sensitive lips, swirling over her clit.

“Oh god…” she squirmed away from his touch and he held her still with one hand firm on her ass, digging into her hip. As punishment for moving he circled and pinched her clit again making her flinch.

“Dripping wet. And so warm. I think you were getting yourself off while I was gone, weren’t you girl?”

“I…I’m…”

“Don’t be afraid. I didn’t tell you that you couldn’t. I suppose the knots didn’t help,” he said with a chuckle.

“No Mr. Malfoy,” she said.

“Shhh,” he said, spanking her ass one more time before rubbing over the stinging spot with his gloved palm.

 

He explored her slowly, teasingly, his fingers running up and down her slit, dipping inside just a bit with two fingers, not allowing her to push back against his hand. Every time he ran a finger over her clit she moaned, her thighs trembling, hips tipping back offering her glistening pink sex to his ministrations.

“You’re supposed to be suffering, girl. This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can’t resist this cunt,” he breathed.

In the next moment she felt his mouth against her, the wide, warm flat of his tongue dragging up between her folds, all the way up just to tease the tight bud of her ass with a single lick. Her eyes rolled back as he delved deeper, suckling at her pussy, his tongue curling around her clit, plucking at it with his soft lips.

“Oh God, Oh Mr. Malfoy…”

Her position was awkward but she pushed back against his face, rolling her hips as he lapped up her cream, licking her from top to bottom, his gloved fingers spreading her open. His tongue dipped far inside, thick and wet before pulling back to lave over her hardened pearl. She was so close to coming again, coming on his face. The wave of pleasure built and throbbed low in her belly.

“Oh please, your tongue…please sir. Oh god I’m going…”

And yet just as she was sure she was going to topple over into bliss he pulled back, holding her legs apart to prevent her from gaining friction. She whined in disappointment and he laughed.

“Such an impatient little slut. I told you that you weren’t going to get to come at all today and you’ve already done it twice. You’re getting greedy Kitten, a very rude little habit. So now you can just be patient.” He slipped a hand around the ropes that crossed between her shoulderblades and yanked her up to sit. Leaning in he pressed his cheek to hers, his lips near her ear in a husky whisper. “You’ll be a patient slut, won’t you?”

“Y—yes Mr. Malfoy.”

“Good girl. Because if you’re a patient little kitten what do you get?” He asked, once again running his fingers between her legs, but not with enough pressure or speed to give her any relief. “What. do. you. get?” He repeated, his words clipped with impatience. 

“Your cock, sir,” she stuttered and he pulled away, leaving her aching once again.

He let go of his grip on her harness and she watched as he stood up from the bed and took off his gloves, holding both of them in one hand and slapping them on her hip twice before setting them aside. She whined and writhed, finding pleasure in the heat that radiated from the reddened, smacked skin. It throbbed between her legs, but it wasn’t enough to push her over.

“A warm afternoon, don’t you think?” He asked, moving towards the silver bucket that held a black bottle of champagne. She heard the bottle pop open and turned her head to look at him.

“Drink,” he said.

He held the bottle and poured the cold bubbly liquid into her mouth. She drank eagerly before he pulled back and let it stream down over her breasts, pulling her nipples to attention, pooling in her navel. Putting the bottle aside he dipped down to suck the champagne from her skin and she purred with pleasure, waiting for him to push her back and finally fuck her.

Instead he stood and simply smiled.

 

He was amazed at the beauty of her flushed cheeks, her creamy skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. Her bound hands and splayed fingers looked like butterfly wings resting on the sway of her lower back, her flesh accentuated by a beautiful red hand print on the globe of her ass. In her harness she was like a goddess pulled down from the sky, her strength and power just barely restrained.

She could feel him staring at her and it filled her with a self-consciousness and shyness that she couldn’t choke down. Instead she closed her eyes and turned her face away from him, the intensity of his gaze. The ropes may have been beautiful to him but they didn’t hide the ugly, ruched scar that sliced over her side or the wispy, silvery cruciatus scars that feathered across her stomach and shoulders.

“Look at me, kitten," he said quietly. His voice was stern and even. She had no choice but to obey. "Beautiful girl."

He wasn’t smiling. His voice wasn’t sing songy or soft, filled with romantic wistfulness. He was stating a fact to her, a fact he’d been trying to hammer into her brain for three years now. Still she wouldn’t accept it.

It was then that she saw it in his hand. Black, heavy, the worst weapon he could wield. Instantly her throat tightened, stomach roiling with fear. No. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it.

“Look at me,” he said again, holding the camera up to his eye. “Turn your face again, like it was. The sun is perfect on your shoulders, your hair is shining…the tendons in your neck, the hollow of your collarbone…”

He couldn’t see the tears in her eyes, how her breath was coming short, as if she were unable to fill her lungs. She'd allowed it before, when he had her bound just right and was overwhelmed with awe at her resilience, her beauty. They were rare occasions, those moments when she felt the strength herself, when she forgot about the scars and the flaws. But here, out in the sunlight, everything exposed, her confidence was nowhere to be found.

“Kitten…” he said, trying once again to get her attention.

She looked up at him, her eyes boring deep into his before she took a deep, shuddering breath and said,

“Enough.”


	4. Scars

_She looked up at him, her eyes boring deep into his before she took a deep breath and said,_

_“Enough.”_

 

He dropped the camera without a word and immediately went to her side, reaching for the ropes, unwinding them from her arms.

“No…no…Draco, the ropes are fine…Draco…please.”

He stopped and looked up, holding her face in his hands. It was good to feel his skin, his fingers without the gloves, grounding, comforting. She leaned into his palms, sniffing up tears that blurred her vision.

“What is it? Tell me,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Don’t hide it. Tell me.”

His voice was firm, insistent, but far different from the tone he used when they played. It was clear that she was upset the scene was over, that they were no longer in their fantasy world, but he wouldn’t go on until she revealed what was wrong and how he could fix it. For a moment he just held her, stroking her hair, his stomach churning with guilt that he’d hurt her somehow, taken it all too far. She’d only ever used her safeword a handful of times and that was back when they were feeling their way around their roles, when they’d just started down this road. It had been nearly a year since then.

“Hermione. Please.”

She looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

“The camera.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deep.

“I’m so sorry, love. I thought you would be ok. You look so beautiful like this,” he said, running a finger under her chin. His touch sent a small shiver through her, a renewed need for him. She didn’t want their playtime to end. “From now on I’ll only bring my camera when we’re out of a scene. When I can properly convince you that you’re hot enough to melt the film.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. It was a small half smile of relief accompanied by a shake of her head. No matter how many times he told her what he saw…she never believed it.

“I thought I would be ok. I thought I would…because…because the ropes were covering…”

“Covering what?”

She almost laughed at how innocent he looked, combined with confusion and concern in his furrowed brow. He’d never looked more earnest in his life.

“My scars,” she said, looking down at her hands again.

She felt ridiculous saying it. She was a smart woman, a grown woman with a man who loved her and she knew that the scars on her body were nothing to him. And yet every time she saw them in a picture or caught them in a reflection, it dug at her confidence like a stab in her side.

“Hermione,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Everyone we know has scars. Literally. I have a scar on my arm that I’ll never be rid of and I took it by choice. You earned yours by bravery. They are nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know. Draco I know all that,” she said, “I just…I don’t want you to take pictures today. This is my fantasy, isn’t it?”

He kissed her. Their lips met and in that moment everything fell away. He wasn’t her captor or Mr. M or a wolf hunting her through the maze. It was the soft, slow, deep kiss of her lover, her Draco, her confidant. Feeling the heat of his lips, his tongue, his hand resting on the hollow of her throat only renewed her arousal, her need for him. He’d been teasing her for hours and she wanted him. Badly.

As he pulled back from the kiss he saw the heat in her eyes, the flush blooming in her cheeks. Standing in front of her bound form he raised an eyebrow and offered a small, lopsided smile.

“Are they too tight? Can you feel your fingers?” He asked, slipping his own hand beneath the ropes to test them. She nodded with her hands pulled taut behind her back. “And your shoulders?” She nodded again feeling a heat between her legs as she realized he was preparing to return to the scene…to take her back down, but even now he was taking his time, teasing her before he started.

Once he was satisfied with her answers he made a point of pulling his hand back slowly, holding it in front of her face and she looked up at him with a soft smile, pressing her lips to the silver signet ring on his pinky. They had agreed upon this act years ago as a sign that she was ready to go on…to continue where they left off, or for Draco to push her a bit further. To show that he agreed he leaned in and kissed her left temple, the first place he ever kissed her and still a place that gave her goosebumps.

 

 

He stood up from the bed and picked up his camera, setting it on the pedestal near the entrance to the room, turning it so the lens was facing away. She watched silently as he poured a bit of the champagne that he’d brought out earlier, leaning against the stone dragon that had been watching their game. It fascinated her to watch him transform, to see his eyes harden, his lip curl into an amused yet cruel sneer. With a sip of the bubbly his brows lifted, giving him an air of extreme arrogance and boredom, every inch the aristocrat. She licked at her bottom lip and sat back on her heels, her knees spread, exposing herself to him just as she had been before he’d picked up the camera. Once he’d finished his drink he sauntered over towards her, running a finger along her jawline before lifting her chin to force her gaze up to see his dark disappointment.

“Are you finished with your little tantrum, girl? Because I’d like to fuck you before the sun sets.”

“Yes Mr. M,” she said dutifully, already feeling the wanton warmth and wet building between her thighs.

The afternoon sun was hot and he stepped back from her and stripped out of his shirt revealing his creamy pale chest with the stylized M tattoo he’d gotten a few years after the war, all curls and swirls in black on the left side just beneath his collar bone. She was feeling warmer. He sat on the wrought iron bench to unlace and very slowly remove his black boots. Watching the muscles in his arms and back bunch and flex, highlighted by the afternoon sun, she started rolling her hips against the knots, sliding back and forth, grinding into the mattress. He was left in only his black leather riding pants and even those were unlaced at the top, slung low on his hips, her eyes drawn to the thin line of light hair beneath his navel. A moan escaped her lips and she looked up to find him watching her intently, his head tipped to the side, chewing on this bottom lip.

“Did I tell you to start humping the mattress, girl?” He asked, stepping closer. “Did I tell you that I wanted to you to come?”

She froze in place and bowed her head, shaking it, feeling a flush crawl up her cheeks.

“No Mr. M, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help it when I saw you…”

He shook his head and clucked his tongue.

“Don’t bother with your flattery girl. I know I’m spectacular,” he said before grabbing her by the hips and pulling her to the edge of the bed, quickly flipping her onto her stomach

“Flat feet, kitten,” he said, giving the flank of her ass a heavy, resonating slap.

Hermione spread her legs and placed both feet on the cold gravel floor of the maze, leaning forward over the bed, her cheek resting on the soft raw silk comforter. While awaiting her punishment he ran his hands over the soft mounds of her ass, squeezing, massaging, warming the skin. He whispered a spell and the black chest that sat at the end of the bed opened, squeaking on its hinges.

“Accio paddle,” he said. His voice light and conversational, as if having a chest full of torture implements was entirely normal. The paddle flew into his hand with a heavy slap and he tested it on his palm once or twice. “What do you think Kitten? Ten?”

“Yes please,” she said, unconsciously tipping her hips up and backward which pulled the knotted rope taut between her legs making her cry out with unexpected arousal.

The paddle smacked hard against her left cheek and she jumped up on her tiptoes, her fingers curling into themselves.

“Yes please what, darling? Honestly, where have your manners gone? Now it’s fifteen.”

“Yes Mr. M. I’m sorry Mr. M. Please.”

He bent over and kissed the warmed and sensitive skin he’d just paddled before rearing back and smacking her again, alternating sides and moving down to catch the tender skin of her upper thighs. She counted each swing of the paddle and he made sure to stop after a few swings to smooth a cool hand over the reddened flesh. By the time he’d reached the fifteenth swing she was whimpering and moaning with need, her pussy shining pink and dripping with her own juices.

“Thank you Mr. M,” she said, closing her eyes to take a breath and refocus, hearing her heartbeat in her ears.

But he gave her no time. Before the sting had even faded he’d turned the paddle around, teasing her with the thick leather handle as he pushed the string of knots aside.

“Go on girl, push back. Look how wet you are. Take it all in,” he said, brushing the end of the handle over her clit. “Let me see you work, you nasty, horny kitten.”

She did as he asked, fucking herself on the handle of the paddle like some beast in heat. He laughed as she worked her hips, his thumb circling her clit with every thrust backward until he could see her thighs shaking, the buck of her hips quick and erratic. She was just on the edge of falling, dripping onto his hand, whining and begging for him to let her come. So he pulled the paddle away, standing in between her legs and pressing his hand into the small of her back to keep her from moving, bending down to growl in her ear, his hand sunk deep in her hair to hold her still.

“You keep trying to take what I said you couldn’t have you greedy slut,” he said, flicking his tongue over her ear. He pressed another kiss to her temple while bucking his hips against her sensitive core. “You’re not going to come until my cock is buried inside you, do you understand me?”

“Yes Mr. M,” she breathed.

“And you’re not going to get my cock in your pussy until you’re begging me for it,”

“Yes. Thank you Mr.M.”

 

 

He pushed off of her and she felt his hands running over her ropes, down between the slick folds of her cunt, a light slap on her ass.

“Stay still,” he said, as he started to unwind the harness from her hands.

Once her wrists were released he rubbed each of her hands, massaged her palms with his thumbs, laced their fingers together and squeezed, stretching out each of the joints. She sighed with relief as he pulled her arms out to the sides, testing her elbows and shoulders after releasing them from the harness. She moaned with pleasure as he massaged the tight, strained muscles in her arms before laying them back on the bed. He took his time unwinding the ropes from her waist, carefully slipping the knots out from between her legs, releasing her breasts and rubbing them softly with his palms. Every inch of skin he revealed tingled and warmed as the blood rushed back to the surface and she did her best to stay still as he pressed his open mouth to the skin between her shoulder blades, laying a trail of kisses down the bones of her spine.

“My pretty kitten…she’ll never leave me, never run away,” he murmured against her skin. “And I’ll never let anyone hurt her again, never let anyone touch her, take her from me. She’s all mine.”

Her body undulated beneath him and he heard her breath escape on a sigh as he pulled the tie free from her hair, letting it tumble over her shoulders.

“So beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.”

He rolled her onto her back and kissed her mouth, his hands roaming her body in reverent worship.

“Please Mr. M…fuck...Please…” she did as he asked, begging for what she needed, every nerve ending aching for release as he slid down her body, holding tight to her hips.

His gaze flicked up to meet hers and he shook his head, the tiniest curl of a sneer in his upper lip. She whined and he dug his fingers into her skin, his eyes flashed with a moment of anger sending shivers up her spine.

“I said to stay still,” he hissed seductively, drawing the letters out through his pearly white teeth.

He moved his hands to the thick, ropy scar that sliced across her stomach: a remnant of the war. The skin was raised and pale, a sickly snake beneath her flesh. Beneath his touch he felt her stiffen, hold her breath, but she didn’t push him away.

“Mr. M…”

He put his lips to the scar, tracing the slashing line with the tip of his tongue, pressing kisses along the way.

“Every part of you is mine,” he said, moving to the collection of starbursts just between her breasts, a constellation of scars from Dolohov’s Curse. “Every part is perfect.”

He kissed each cursed mark, tamping down the anger he felt every time he saw them, knowing how she got them, exactly who had done it. She’d recovered from the curse but the residual shame and pain that it left behind was an injury that would never fade. She sniffed and he looked up to see her smiling, tears shining in her eyes. He nodded at her and she nodded back, sinking her hand into his hair.

Finally he moved to her neck, to the straight white slash that was left by his aunt’s blade, covering it with his mouth, suckling at the skin until she moaned. He watched every morning as she covered it with glamours or muggle make up, jumpers and scarves in the winter. But now he made love to it, licking and laving the flesh, his hand between her legs, stroking her wet pussy until she was bucking up against him.

“Do you want it?” He rasped in her ear. “What do you want kitten?”

“Please Mr. M,” she said, holding tight to his head, clutching him to her neck, sure that he would leave a delicious purple bruise where he nipped and sucked furiously at her throat. “Please fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled against her, sinking two fingers inside her heat and she rolled against his hand, panting in his ear.

“Beg me again,” he said, slowly working his fingers in and out with obscene wet sucking sounds that made her even hotter, squirming and bucking against his hips where she could feel the hard length of his erection against her leg. “I love to hear you so desperate for my cock.”

“Please let me come on your cock, sir. I need you to fill me. Fill me up, please.”

He pulled away and unlaced his trousers the rest of the way, crooking his finger at her.

“Come get it wet girl,” he purred, palming himself through the black leather.

She crawled to him and sunk her hand inside his trousers to pull him free, dark and thick and hard. He groaned as she took him in her mouth bobbing along his length until he was at the back of her throat, thrusting against her with his hand in her hair.

“Don’t take too much, kitten, or there won’t be any left for your wet little snatch.”

She pulled away with a flick of her tongue across the weeping head of his prick and he pushed her onto her back, crawling over her and sinking inside with one slow thrust.

“Oh my pretty girl, its so tight for me,” he said, starting a punishingly slow rhythm, pulling all the way out before sinking in again, pulling her legs over his shoulders to give him a deeper angle.

“Oh God Mr. M. Oh please go harder,” she whined, digging her fingers into his biceps.

His eyes fluttered shut as he began moving faster, his chest warm, damp with sweat that she arched up to lick, curling her tongue around the edges of his tattoo.

“Fuck girl, I can’t last with you.”

Hermione smiled and pushed his chest, flipping him onto his back. She sunk down onto his length, rolling her hips, a hot slick wave along the shaft of his dick and he groaned, his eyes rolling back as her fingernails raked down the span of his chest. Draco reached up to twist and pull at her nipples, palming the plump flesh of her breast beneath his hand.

“Please, please let me come,” he whimpered, falling forward, her caramel curls feathering over his neck. “Please sir.”

She moved faster, his hands on her hips to guide her movements. He bucked up hard, nearly roaring as he neared his climax, his heels dug into the mattress.

“Yes girl,” he said. “Come for me. Come for your dragon.”

She smiled and sighed, clenching around him. And after being denied for hours the wave of her orgasm exploded through her system and she cried out, loud enough to frighten a few black birds from the hedges, their wings beating overhead. As her insides rippled milked along his shaft he pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her deep, growling into her mouth as he emptied inside her, his hand heavy and tight on the back of her neck as they rode the aftershocks of their pleasure.

“Oh God,” she breathed, lying limp across his chest, dragging her fingers down the length of his arms. “Thank you sir. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” he said, holding her close, staring up through the canopy of the hedges. “My good little kitten.” He turned and kissed the shell of her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said; and above them the blackbirds sang.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks friends for all of your kind words and comments on this story. It was super fun to write, a little break from my more angsty stuff. Hope you like the ending!

For a few minutes the song of the birds and the buzzing of cicadas in the afternoon warmth was the only sound as Draco and Hermione lay on the crumpled bed linens, staring up through the vines and branches that wove together above the maze, bathing them in dappled sunlight.

“Thank you,” she said finally, rolling over to lie across him, looking him in the eye as she tickled her fingers over his chest. “I’m sorry I made us stop. I should have just…bit my tongue…”

Draco frowned, his brow furrowed as he ran his fingers through her damp, wild hair.

“Never apologize for that, love,” he said, his palm warm on her cheek. “I feel better knowing you’ll tell me when you’re uncomfortable.” She smiled and he dug his fingers into her side, the ticklish spot just below her ribs. “That way I know you’re truly enjoying my torture.”

She gasped and giggled, twisting out of his grip, her eyes like bronze in the orange afternoon light and he pulled her back down, relishing the intimacy of skin on skin, their hearts beating against each other. He drew swirls and circles on her back with his fingertips, watching the pulse in her neck returning to normal, her eyes fluttering closed as the day’s endorphin rush started to fade.

“Come on,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You said we were going to watch a movie about monkeys conquering the muggles tonight so we have to clean up.”

Hermione laughed and pulled herself out of the bed, which Draco immediately shrunk down into what looked like furniture for a fairy before sticking it in his pocket. He unbuckled the collar around her neck and shrunk it down to resemble a black thumb ring that he wore all the time, frequently making Hermione blush when he twisted it around during meetings at the Ministry.

“Apes. Apes taking over the world,” she said. “And I get a bath first.”

Picking up his wand from the little table beside the bed, Draco summoned their black bathrobes that he’d stashed in the chest of toys and he helped her slip into it, tying the belt and pulling it just a tad too snug, wagging his eyebrows at her.

“I know you like to be tied up nice and tight. Let’s go get in the bath," he said, waving his hand at the mess they'd left behind. "I’ll get rid of the rest of this foofaraw before we go to bed.”

 

Hermione never grew tired of the bathtub in their suite. Sunken into the floor, lined with ornate blue and white tiles, it was big enough for four people for some reason; perpetually warm and there were dozens of oils and bubbles to choose from. A silver and crystal candle chandelier hung above them, throwing light around the room like a sky full of stars. Draco selected a soothing muscle oil and a lavender and sage bubblebath and helped her out of her robe, taking her hand to lead her into the tub. As she sunk down into the warm, silky water she closed her eyes and groaned, stretching her legs out and resting her head against the side.

“Don’t make noises like that if you still want to watch that movie,” he said, climbing in to sit behind her.

While the room filled with scented steam he rubbed her shoulders, his thumbs smoothing the muscles in her neck, kissing the bone at the top of her spine.

“Have I ever told you how wonderful your hands are?” She purred, laying back against his chest and pulling his hand up to examine it, smoothing her fingertips over the ridged veins that ran down the back. “They’re not only beautiful…I mean look at your long, slim fingers…” she brought them up to her lips and kissed each one. “But they’re so strong _and_ soft. You don’t see that very often. Must be a pureblood thing,” she said, kissing his palm.

“Or relentless dedication to a skin care routine,” he said, putting his lips to her shoulder. “But thank you for the compliment, Granger.”

He summoned a pitcher and poured warm water over her head, lathered a richly scented shampoo into her hair, combing his fingers through from the roots to the ends, massaging her scalp until her eyes rolled back in bliss.

“And contrary to what you may have heard for six years in school, I do love this ridiculous mane of hair,” he said, twisting it into a long, bubbly rope and piling it onto her head. “I love how it looks when it’s wild and long, like some sort of forest fairy, and I love when you pull and twist it into knots, so regal and sleek. It looks so beautiful woven into braids. It _might_ be my favorite thing about you.”

“I thought it was my staggering intellect?” She said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Oh, I have to say that in public darling, can’t have the feminist witches stretching my neck." He leaned in then to whisper in her ear. "But just between you and I, it’s your hair and your tits.”

Beneath the surface she pinched the inside of his upper thigh and he yelped like a wild animal before calling for a truce. They soaked for a while after rinsing her hair and she lay with her back against his chest.

“We’ve been doing…this…for a while but it always seems to be me picking out the fantasies,” she finally said, keeping her tone light. “Isn’t there anything you would like to do? I’m starting to feel a bit…twisted.”

Kidnapping and food play and breath play and public sex and any other number of scenarios she’d thought up were just that…her thoughts. Sometimes she wondered if he was simply playing along…doing what she asked to keep her happy, not because it turned him on.

“There’s no shame in asking for what you want, Hermione,” he said firmly. “And as enticing as you are, I promise you that I wouldn’t engage in these little scenes if they weren’t incredibly arousing. Besides, watching you flush with orgasm is fantasy enough. Knowing you fantasize about me is my fantasy.”

She flipped onto her stomach and splashed him…lovingly. He smiled, tucking her wet hair behind her ear.

“Although I do have some little…scenarios I’d like to see,” he admitted after a moment. “It feels different being the top asking you to lower yourself for me. I would never want you to feel compelled…”

“Tell me,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she straddled his hips. A little moan escaped his lips at the unexpected contact, but she didn’t push any further. “Tell me what you want.”

“Well, as I am a man of means we’d have to travel for my fantasy,” he said, adopting his _Malfoy_ tone, eyebrows raised, nose in the air. “Perhaps to a small desert island and you’re a poor little shipwrecked girl, your white dress all in tatters, in need of my protection?”

She purred in response, running her hands down the length of his broad chest, her hips rolling just a bit beneath the surface.

“And I would be the fearless….wizard….pirate with a secret dungeon somewhere…not that I’ve thought out the details.”

“Mmmm,” she said, her hand curled around his hardening length, stroking slowly. Like he’d said earlier, they had all the time in the world. “A frightened little girl completely at your mercy…” she said, working him a bit faster, her lips on his neck, up to his jaw…

“Yes, right up until dinner time when I take you back to the resort for Lobster Bisque. I'm not sleeping on the beach,” he said, holding her face and kissing her deeply before pulling himself out of the tub and holding a hand out to her. “Come on then, it’s clear you need just a bit more of that Malfoy dick,” he said, cocking an eyebrow and easily hoisting her naked body over his shoulder.

 

 

The next morning she woke up before him again and saw him traipsing through the mist out towards the maze in his grey joggers and an old Slytherin Quidditch t-shirt that had been worn to shreds. His mother would kill him, were she not out of town, for going out in public looking like some “homeless house elf”. Of course Hermione liked it. When he traveled for work she slept with that shirt on her pillow. Now she leaned up against the window smiling, watching the maze transfigure back to its normal pathways, the vines shrinking back to open it to the sky. Sparks and swirls flew from the center where he shrunk and transfigured all the parts of their playroom, clearing all evidence of their salacious Friday afternoon, repositioning the dragon statues and clearing the privacy wards. He met her at the front door, twirling his wand between his fingers and she pulled him into a kiss, running her fingers through his hair to smooth it into some sort of style.

“Thank you for clearing all that up, darling,” she said. “And now, in a stunning turn of events I will cook you breakfast.”

 

 

Narcissa and Lucius came home early from their long weekend, having been disappointed with the quality of the wine selection at the resort in Spain.

“Truly we are living through the worst of times,” Draco said after hearing the story while pouring a drink for the four of them. “I hope you can find a way to recover.”

“Watch your tone, Draco,” Narcissa chided, but there was a smile on her face. “It’s very disheartening to plan a vacation and have it fail to live up to your expectation.”

“Draco just assumes everything is going to be below his expectations and we’re never disappointed,” Hermione said, and the two women laughed, making Draco smile at how the love of his life was finally comfortable around his parents.

“Why don’t we all go into London and have a late dinner,” Lucius suggested. “The ladies can freshen up, put on their finest robes and we can go to The Manticore. We know they’ll have the 1654 Cabernet there.”

 

 

Draco was up early on Sunday and let Hermione sleep as he shuffled downstairs for coffee. Lucius was at the dining room table, already reading the Prophet and he raised a curious eyebrow at his son.

“Good morning.”

“Hmmph," Draco nodded, slumping down into a chair and picking at a scone.

“Your mother and I decided to take a walk last night after we were home from dinner. It was late but you know how she enjoys the moonlight and the fountain in the maze.”

Draco looked up, an eyebrow raised at the sort of dramatic sing song tone in his father’s voice.

“Yeees,” he said, pouring himself some coffee and adding enough sugar to technically make it a solid.

“I thought you may want to return this to your…paramour,” Lucius said.

He then glanced over both of his shoulders before placing a little crumpled pile of black satin on the dining room table. Hermione’s nightgown. Draco had asked her to strip out of it before they reached they center of the maze. He felt his cheeks burning as if he were a fifteen year old caught with a bag of pixiehair weed, but Lucius only laughed and straightened out his newspaper. Draco snatched the nightgown and pulled it into his lap beneath the table as Narcissa waltzed in and sat down across from him.

“I hope you and Hermione had a lovely weekend,” she said, raising her eyebrow. “Sometimes a couple just needs a little quiet time at home.”

She looked at Lucius and the two of them smiled before bursting into laughter loud enough to rouse Hermione from her sleep.

 

 

 

The End.


End file.
